


Seven Steps From Hell

by WillowWolf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowWolf/pseuds/WillowWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was supposed to be me conquering the GoT universe but...</p><p>Let's be real, this is mainly a Sansan fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

## 

Prologue

She was crying, begging him. 

"Please." She said, her tears leaving wet traces upon his face as she kissed him everywhere. Her soft touches caressing his scars, and his burns, and what precious little flesh left unscathed. "I know it's you, I know you're there. Please. Please don't leave me again." He could feel her body shudder. "I'm so sorry, please." She rained chaste kisses upon him, her eyes searching his face. 

_Would it be so much?_ He thought, _To take something in return, something to send me on my way?_ His soul may have been quieted of rage, but it thirsted. Oh but it thirsted, and it hungered. Not for death, or pain. No, this was something different, something else. Something that had never felt so close. 

"Please." She begged, her voice barely a whisper. "Come back to me." 

With that Her lips pressed gently on his own, braking the barrier she had left between them, and he could no longer deny her. He could feel himself fighting the cold, struggling against the blackness that held him so tightly. _I will have you, Little Bird,_ He thought, _let no thing on this earth keep you from me._ He fought the darkness, willing himself to fight. For her, always for her. 

His mouth opened to hers, and he tasted her. Her tears tasted of salt, but her lips, her skin... He had never tasted anything so sweet. She cried in earnest then, the sound now dulcet to his ears. When he finally broke from her touch, and his eyes finally opened he beheld her. Her eyes were closed as if she was refusing to wake from a dream. 

"Thank the Gods." She whispered, her voice betraying her. "The Old and the New."


	2. The First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read my first chapter!! (short though it was!) I REALLY appreciated the kudos and comments! :-D

_Left than up the stairs_ Sansa thought rushing as fast as she could. Her lungs burned with the effort, and she struggled to draw her breath. "Go back to your room, and bar the door." Septa Mordane had said, _Where was she now?_ _Where are any of them?_ Sansa rushed around another corner, the halls before her oddly empty. "Let no one in who is not of the North." Her Septa had been very clear on that. _But what of Father? or Arya? Where are they?_  
  
Sansa ran down the long hall to the Tower of the Hand. Her feet pounding against the cobbled stones. I'm almost there. She thought, trying to drown out the sound of screams which surrounded her, screams and the storm of swords. Sansa turned up a flight of stairs, then another. They seemed to go on forever. _This isn't right._ She thought frantically. _How many floors are there?_ Finally Sansa found her door, her lungs feeling as though they might burst. Her hand fell upon the door, but it wouldn't budge.  
  
Sansa pounded on the door, her fists beginning to bleed. "Please!" She shouted, "You must let me in, I'm to wait until it's safe!"  
A high pretty voice answered her. "You're not welcome here." It stated plainly. The Sound of fighting grew ever closer and the door remained shut tight.  
"You don't understand! Open the door!" Sansa shouted. She could see the shadows of soldiers playing against the wall behind her. "Please, hurry!"  
  
There was the sound of wood being moved, and finally the door swung slightly open. Sansa rushed in, and shut it tight behind her dropping the bar in place.  
  
"Thank you." She breathed turning. "Oh, thank--" Sansa's breath caught in her throat. Before her was a beautiful woman with Auburn hair clothed in airy summer silks, her dainty hands clasped gently in front of her. The girl was very tall for her age. "Who?" Sansa began, unsure. The sound of fighting faded away behind her, and was replaced with the gentle sounds of birds singing, and the wind playing through the trees.  
  
"You aren't welcome here, Sweetling." The woman said, her eyes unblinking.  
  
"We tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen." Another voice broke in. This one rich and deep. A young man, with golden locks appeared. His mouth was a pout, and his eyes shone bright blue, Sansa could almost have thought him handsome. "You could have had everything. You could have been Queen."  
  
 _No. This isn't right. This isn't what happened._ The young couple made there way towards her and Sansa backed away desperately _. This isn't right._ She thought, tears coming to her eyes.  
  
"No. No. No..." Sansa whispered, her voice breaking. Sansa  backed away from there hands, until she bumped into something big and hard. Strong hands fell upon her shoulders, holding them gently. "Father?" Sansa whispered hopefully. Relief broke upon her face and she turned.  
  
"What's the matter Little Bird? Does something frighten you?" His voice was rough, and low. He leaned down conspiratorially as she tried to pull away. "Save yourself some pain, girl. Just give them what they want." She followed his gaze as it came to rest upon the two figures approaching her.  
  
Sansa struggled, "No, No!" She screamed. The Hound vanished as their hands clasped upon her, pulling and grasping at her. The harder she struggled the tighter they held. "No." She begged, "Please."  
  
\---  
  
Sansa woke with a start. Her skin wet with sweat and her sheets tangled tightly about her. A large hand rested gently on her shoulder.  
  
"The King requires your presence Little Bird." Sandor stated plainly, removing his hand and taking a step back from her bed.  
  
"Have I a choice?" She asked, slipping from the bed and drawing her robe about her shoulders.  
  
"You've a choice in all things girl, just as others can choose how to react to your choices."  
Sansa hazarded a glance at the Hound. It did not look as though he had been asleep yet, and the stink of the slaughter was still on him, newly dried blood caked upon his armor. Sansa pulled her robe around her tighter and nodded.  
  
"You killed them, my father's guards." It wasn't a question, but Sandor gave her an answer just the same, turning his back so that she might change in moderate privacy.  
  
"A Dog does as his master bids. Not his place to judge the quarry."  
  
Sansa felt her back stiffen, she finished tying her dress and stalked in front of him, not knowing what had suddenly emboldened her. The Hound loomed above her, though she was tall for her age. _He may be big, but my arm reaches far enough._ She thought fiercely, and slapped him hard across the face.  
  
"I grew up with those men! With those women! They were not rabbits and foxes to be driven out from the undergrowth!"  
  
The Hound looked at her, briefly, before returning to his usual uninterested attitude. "Aye." He said, his voice sinking low. "But they died just as well didn't they? Seems the Bird had some sense to hide in her cage." He glanced at her again, in time to see her mouth hang low in shock before she snapped it shut. "I'd save my fire before the King, Little Bird, he's not like to let you slap him without taking off one of your pretty little hands."  
  
The Hound strode out of the chamber, and Sansa was left with the choice to follow him or no. Just as the rabbit has a choice to stay in its burrow, or flee.  _Not much of a choice is it?_ Sansa gathered her skirts and followed.  
  
The walk to the Great Hall was long and Sansa found herself running through the events of the last few days. She felt far removed from the memories, as though they had happened to someone else. As though she were watching her body from somewhere high above. She watched as she had grown Pale over the space of the evening as she waited for news of what was happening.  
  
It had been hours since she had left her Septa, and longer still since she'd last seen Arya or her father, Sansa remembered. They had brought Jeyne Poole to her door before night fell, but Sansa would not unbar the door until she knew the guards had left. Jeyne had been no use to her. The poor girl was in hysterics and would only rock herself, sobbing and repeating "there's so much blood." She could offer no news of what was happening in the keep below.  
  
Eventually exhaustion triumphed over fear and Sansa slept. Though, it was not a sound sleep. She saw the angry men in Lannister crimson who had cone from her as she walked with her septa. They had chased her back to the tower of the hand and she had barely time to bar the door before them. When she woke, her skin was wet with sweat, her body was sore from having slept in her chair.  
  
It was not yet morning, sansa rose and changed into her nightdress, one plain and of the North. She craved the comfort of her woolen things despite the warmth of the coming day. For the wool meant Winterfell, safety and security.  
  
 _Where is father? Why has he not come for me?_   Sansa finished washing her face and brushed the tangles out of her hair, tying it into a long braid, and crawled into the bed next to Jeyne to await what morning would bring. The next thing she knew, the Hound had awaken her from her nightmare. 

  
\---  
  
That same thought echoed through her head as the Hound stepped aside, gesturing down the long hall. _Where is my Father?_ Sansa thought again, biting her lip and kneading a tatty handkerchief between her hands.  
  
"My Lady." A thin high voice echoed down the hall. Joffrey sat lazily in the Iron Throne. His cloak spread wide behind him to dull the edges of the blades. "It warms my heart to see you safe."  
  
Sansa heard a low "Humph" from her left, and she tore her gaze away from Joffrey to the Hound. His face and posture betraying nothing.  
  
"Best get along, Girl. The King won't like to be kept waiting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have written four different versions of this chapter... Lets just say, I can't wait to get far enough into neutral territory that I feel my story can take off without having to rely too heavily on the time lines in the books!! Or maybe I should just disregard it all together, I'd certainly turn out updates faster. lol


	3. Wolf Among Lions

The Hound stood at attention near the rear of Queen Cersei's solar, a flat expression painted across his face. He didn't need to see to know what was happening. That they had the little bird cowed and frightened, their tones were revealing enough for that.  
  
"If I could see him, your Grace." Sansa pleaded the Queen. "I know he would listen to me. Father loved King Robert as a brother, I know he would never do anything like this. If I could just--"  
  
"Do you mean to call his Grace, King Joffery a liar? Is that why you contradicted him in court? Why you argue with us now?" Cersei countered, the pleasant look on her face clashing with the venom of her tone.  
  
The little bird didn't respond, she was taking her time, choosing her song well. A velvet voice cut into the conversation, it was the slimy one, Littlefinger. "Lady Sansa, we understand your trepidation. A horrible wrong has been done to your House on behalf of your betrothed the King, of which I'm sure the Queen will assure you he had no part. We only ask that you lend us your voice and ensure that no more blood be senselessly shed."  
  
"There need not be anymore bloodshed little one." Lord Varys broke in, adding his voice to the fray. "Your father is a good man, who serves the realm. Let not this Kingdom descend into chaos. Appeal to your brother's good senses and let us--"  
  
"Enough of this pandering." The Queen cut in, and The Hound turned his head slightly to see the woman stand and cut around the table to lay a quil and parchment in front of Sansa. "I will tell you what words to write. Put a stop to this treasonous madness and the King will grant your Father mercy, and will allow your brother and the Stark banner-men to return north."  
  
Sansa's hand shook as she took the quill from the Queen. _They'll do no such thing,_ The Hound thought. _She's pinned tight this one, she's no choice but to play their game now._  
  
\---  
  
It was some long hours later when the Hound finally returned Sansa to her chambers. She had been silent the entire walk, her face drawn and her eyes red. Sandor felt a tug of pity for the girl, _a Wolf amongst the Lions._ He thought, _If it takes three hounds to lay waste to a lioness, how many direwolves does it take to tear through a pride?_  
  
They arrived at Sansa's door, and the Hound pushed it open for her letting her enter and then following to check to see it was clear. The chamber was shrouded in darkness. The Girls new maids had been neglecting her since the Starks had been put to the sword, and though the nights had gotten colder, no one had been along to lay a fire in the hearth.  
  
The Hound looked over to where the Girl had taken a seat on her bed, and drawn a blanket tight about her thin shoulders. She was staring of into the nothingness in front of her. Sandor sighed heavily and bent down to the hearth.  
  
"My Lord?" Sansa started, her eyes following him. "What are you--"  
  
"What does it look like I'm doing Girl?" The Hound snarled, as the fire caught and he flinched away ever so slightly. "Do you want to add a cold to your list of woes?" He straightened. "You'll light your own candles, I'm no maid."  
  
The Girl blushed prettily despite his harshness. "I thank you Ser, it is more than the daughter of a traitor deserves." Sansa rose and brought a candle to the flame, holding its end just close enough to catch. The light from the blaze casting ghostly shadows around the room, and making a frightening menace of the Hounds face.  
  
"Chirp that song long enough, Little Bird, and you'll forget your own tune." Sandor caught her chin and brought her face round so he could get a good look at her. Sansa kept her eyes lowered, but only at first, curiosity took the best of her and she looked him in the eye. The Hound dropped her chin as though her flesh had caught fire. "We've already one Mockingbird at court, no need for another."  
  
She held his gaze, _searching for something must be_ , Sandor thought. _Searching to see if what were in the eyes of those three earlier is the same as what's in mine._ Sandor took to the door, his hand resting on the handle. "Bolt the door after me, Little Bird. We'd not want the cats to ruffle your feathers in the night."  
  
Sansa nodded and came to the door, her eyes once again not making contact, her bravery forgotten. _I may be a terror, but I'm far from the worst demon to haunt these halls._ The Hound reasoned, as he slipped out and shut the door behind him. _And I'm no Ser._ Despite that, Sandor waited a moment to hear the bolt slide home before taking his leave.  
  



	4. Like In A Song

Sansa had not expected the Hound's touch to be so gentle, though, she could not say she had ever spent time thinking of what his touch would be like. Sansa had never been struck before, not truly. She had been experiencing a great many new things as of late, and none of them were pleasant. Her fingers clutched the delicate handkerchief tightly as the Hound led her back to the tower. He hadn't been the one to strike her, instead, he had stopped her from pushing Joffrey from the battlements. Sansa couldn't speak as to what possessed him to do so. He had caught her arm lightly and dabbed the blood from her lip after Joffrey had seen her punished for her insolence, and Sansa swore she had seen regret in his eyes.  
  
While she didn't feel she could speak to his motives, she also couldn't explain her own. Sansa didn't know what had possessed her, for she had never been the violent type, but seeing her father's head and those of so many others close to her tarred and put up on spikes had tipped her over the edge. _What is left for me here?_ Sansa thought, as she stumbled blindly behind the Hound. _There has been no sign of Arya, it cannot be said whether she lives or is dead. Mother and Robb may yet come for me, or I could escape and go to them. It would all be terribly tragic..._  
  
"Like in a song." Sansa sighed. She bumped abruptly into the Hound, not realizing he had stopped.  
  
"A jest, truly." He murmured, turning to face her. Sansa looked up at him, or rather, his chest. She was not so brave as that anymore, and the sting of her swelling lip was still too fresh to risk further provocation from anyone, even the Hound. Although, Sansa could not think of a time his bite had been worse than his bark.  
  
"Beg pardon, my Lord. I did not mean to--"  
  
"I'm no Lord, Little Bird." There was a kindness in his voice, and Sansa raised her eyes to his face. His eyes, which usually burned with such a ferocity, seemed more sad than anything. "You do yourself no favors living in a fantasy. Thought even you would realize that now."  
  
Sansa could feel the tears fill her eyes, and she averted her gaze. "I... I did not..."  
  
She couldn't be sure, but Sansa thought she saw the Hound begin to reach out to her. _Before thinking better of it no doubt. Who could be seen comforting one such as me?_ Sansa sniffled, and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief the hound had given her after Joffrey had her struck. It did not occur to her at the time but later, alone in her chamber, Sansa did wonder how the Hound had come to be in possession of such a delicate and dainty article.  
  
"Your shaking girl... It's no crime to be afraid."  
  
Sansa had not noticed how her hands quavered until the Hound spoke. He reached out a hand again, and this time set his large hand upon hers, lending his strength to steady them.  
  
"The only time a man can be brave is when he's afraid, mayhap the same goes for Ladies." The Hound said quietly, before dropping his hand. His hands are so coarse, like Fathers were...  
  
"I would not keep you from your duties, Ser." Sansa managed finally, her voice a little stronger.  
  
"Aye. Ever the Lady." He nodded, and turned abruptly leaving Sansa to follow in his wake.  
  
\----  
  
"Like In a song." Sansa had said. Sandor thought he may as well as have let her push the Prince from the battlements. _Not the Prince, the King._ He corrected, a look of disgust breaking across his face. It would be a lie to say that he hadn't held some fondness for the boy, once, but time and the Gods had been cruel and Joffrey had madness in him. Madness Sandor could no longer ignore. _Like King Aerys, and Gregor._ Sandor sneered as he turned down another hall, the Little Bird following close behind. _The Gods at least saw fit to make Joffrey a frail weak thing, I'd thank them for that if I cared to speak to them at all._  
  
By the time they made it back to the Little Birds cage, it was getting dark. Sandor hadn't seen any sign of Sansa's maids, and once again entered her chambers to light the fire. She never asked him to, and always thanked him. It had become his habit as of late, and though he didn't do it grudgingly, he'd never let the girl know that.  
  
Sansa stumbled weakly to the rug in front of the fireplace and slumped to the floor. Sandor couldn't help but notice she was very near him, and could smell the faint hint of lavender. Even now when her world was falling apart she still took care to be seemly. He sighed heavily while making sure the fire caught and stood to take his leave, but the sight of her sitting there so very frail and alone gave him pause.  
  
"You'll be alright?" He asked, not really believing she would be alright anytime soon. Maybe in some years, when time came to her aid, but not before and not here.  
  
Sansa sniffled, and glanced up at him. Her bright blue eyes tinted red around the edges, and her nose turned pink from her rubbing it. Sandor was hard pressed to remember the last he'd seen such a pitiful sight. She kneaded the handkerchief in her hands.  
  
"If... If it wouldn't be too much trouble..."  
  
"What is it Girl?" He watched as she dropped her gaze to the cloth in her hands.  
  
"Might you stay for a moment or two? It's just, I've been alone for some time now... I would be grateful for some company."  
  
It was not something he had expected, and it took a moment for him to think of how to reply.  
  
"A soldier isn't much company for a Lady." He managed finally.  
  
"No, but... You don't seem... I've realized of late..."  
  
"Spit it out, girl."  
  
"You remind me of my father." Sansa blurted after a moment, not waiting for a response she continued, the words beginning to spill out as though she had no control over them. "Joffrey promised mercy, and then took his head. The last time we spoke I was cross with him, and he'll never know that I--" Sansa choked out a sob. Her carefully constructed armor cracking under the pressure. "I know you helped put my family to the sword, I know it. But I don't think... Father said a man must do his duty, and you are sworn to the Lannister's, so I know you only did yours. But a knights duty is also to protect the weak and I thought--"  
  
"I'm not a Knight." Sandor interrupted, his voice low and reticent.  
  
"No, but you can be kind, and you are steadfast and true." Her eyes rose to his, her voice hopeful.  
  
"Do not ask me for what I cannot give." Sandor stated simply, before turning to take his leave. "Bolt the door behind me, Little Bird." Sansa nodded, and once again after shutting the door behind him, Sandor waited to hear the bolt slide home.  
  



	5. A Shift in Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! The dreaded Blackwater!! This chapter was the worst, and it jumps around a bit with flashbacks etc and briefly, two POV's. And maybe a lot of comma's and spelling errors... I was really annoyed, my AC was broken, and I just couldn't be bothered. lol. Hopefully it isn't to muddy, and this is the last of the been there read that. I promise!! ^_^

It had been two fortnights since Sansa had heard the news of her brother Robb having taken the Kingslayer hostage. Although, the bruises made the time feel as though it weren't so long. Joffrey's wroth had been a fearsome thing, and Sansa hadn't left her bed for many days after. Although now it seemed as though Joffrey was distracted, having found more refreshing amusements such as planning a siege with which to pass his time.   
  
Sansa had still ventured to court to hear news of the impending battle, but mostly, she kept to herself. Spending time in the great library reading tales of the north, or praying in the Sept. Although, southern Gods appealed less and less to hear, and Sansa found herself craving more the Old Gods. It was such a yearning that lead Sansa to the Godswood on this day, although the city was in chaos due to the impending sack by King Stannis.   
  
Sansa hoped that if Stannis won, perhaps he would see fit to see her north. _He cannot be so cruel as Jofferey._ Sansa had skipped her meal, slipping away to lose herself in the small wood. She had been so lost in herself that it wasn't until she realized she could barely see her hand before her face, that Sansa had made her way back to the keep.   
   
Pausing on the battlements high atop the Red Keep, Sansa looked out over the water to the great Blackwater bay. She saw Stannis' ships looming on the horizon and her breath caught in her throat. The bells in the Sept of Baelor began to chime, announcing the impending battle. With haste, Sansa fled.   
  


SANDOR  
\---  
He had been at it since dawn, leading raids on the troops up and down the coast, and as night began to fall the Hound had been summoned back to the Red Keep to lead the Sortie on King Stannis' landing party.   
  
His body ached, and his men were dwindling. _All this for what?_ The hound thought bitterly, as fire and death surrounded him. _The Blackwater is on fire, and there is but one thing in this city I would see safe._ He thought, and that was all it took. 

 

SANSA  
\----  
  
The Queen was drunk, and the rest of the high-born ladies were no better. Sansa hid herself in a corner and thought back over the last fortnight. The Hound had looked after her, though he would never admit it. _No, not the Hound. Sandor._ Sansa corrected herself, blushing.   
      
    **  
She had attempted to gain his opinion one night, as he knelt to light her fire. He had taken to lingering, taking his time of it. Not to actually keep her company, as he sternly informed her, but Sansa could tell that he had taken to heart her loneliness. She felt that perhaps he took pity on her because he too was lonely. After all, a dog trapped in a kennel was much like a bird trapped in a cage.   
  
"King Stannis is coming soon. Or, so seems to be the rumor at court." Sansa ventured, as the Hound struck her fire. "It is said that with the Lannister forces so far off, King's Landing will surely fall."  
  
Sandor glimpsed at her, and relented to lean back after seeing the fire lit. Her words hanging in the air between them as he considered.   
  
"I'd not bet my purse on it girl. Tywin Lannister isn't one to see his hard work go to waste."   
  
"You believe he will see Stannis defeated?" Sansa asked, her voice showing her disappointment.   
  
"Think only of the Reines of Castamere if you need more proof. Tywin is not to be triffled with."  
  
"But my brother--"  
  
"Your brother is not here, and rescuing you will be last on Stannis' mind. He is better at holding land than taking it, you'll do well to remember that." The Hound stood, and Sansa stood with him. He paused as he saw her approach him, her boldness a new thing. Without giving her time to say a word, the Hound took to the door. He paused.   
  
"I will bolt it after you." Sansa whispered.   
    **  
  
Sansa recalled it as she watched the Queen refill her cup, and one last encounter. The last she'd seen him. It had been early this morning, before he had gone off to lead his raids and before she had spent her day praying. The King had sent the Hound to summon her to bid him farewell and wish him good fortune in battle, and Sansa had appealed to the Hound to save her.   
  
**  
Sansa had been anxiously doing needlework in her room, when the Hound made himself known, shutting the door tightly behind him.   
  
"Always the Lady." He murmured, breaking her reverie.   
  
"My Lord, I--" Sansa began, standing. He shushed her with a wave of his hand and came close. The had brokered an alliance of sorts between them, in these moments alone in her chambers, but he had never acted so familiar as this. Sansa had watched him with wide eyes, as he reached to his belt and produced a small dagger. It was a plain handled thing, well worn and tucked in a faded leather sheath. Sandor held it out to her.   
  
"I've been sent to summon you before the King." He began, Sansa would have answered but her eyes were captivated by the tiny dagger, which hung unannounced between them. She looked up to his eyes, which were resolute. Sansa reached out and took it from him.   
  
"Ser I don't--" Sandor stepped closer to her, his eyes only momentarily betraying him.  
  
"I may not be a knight Little Bird, but I'll not leave a Lady defenseless." he whispered, his rough voice low and conspiratorial.   
  
A sudden bravery had taken hold of Sansa then, and an idea. Sansa took the opportunity of their closeness and his dropped guard to beseech him.   
  
"Please... If your honor would not see me hurt, then let it see me to safety. Take me from here... Set me free." Sansa's voice broke. Sandor was more a hero than Florian, and she could be his Jonquil. He could be her salvation. Although he sometimes scared her, she was more scared of being trapped here in the capitol. Either under Joffrey's rule or Stannis' a cage was still a cage.   
  
The corner of Sandor's mouth twitched, and his eyes cast down sadly upon her. Some instinct had made her reach her hand up, and rest in upon his burnt cheek. Sandor closed his eyes, and it almost seemed as though he leaned into her touch.   
  
"Would that I could, Little Bird." He murmured, and broke away leading her to the King. Sansa followed, and though tears began to well in her eyes, she did not let them fall. Joffery wouldn't like it if I had been crying. She had thought bitterly.   
**  
  
Some commotion broke Sansa from her thoughts. Lancel had burst into the room where the ladies had gathered and went to kneel before the Queen. He had left the door open, and in the commotion, it was unguarded. _I would rather die away from women such as these._ Sansa thought bitterly, and she stood, slipping from the room, making her way carefully back to her chambers.


	6. Tender is the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is so long in coming!! I was planning for/enjoying the chaos of Comic Con and a Las Vegas Bachelorette party. lol I hope you all enjoy it!!!

  
King Stannis was not a man to be trifled with, and less so by a man who had just spent the better part of two days decimating his landing parties. The Hound knew this, and yet, here he stood. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he had been brought forth alive, and yet, Sandor did not believe in the Gods. Not the Seven, not the Fire Gods of King Stannis' Red Woman, and not even the Old Gods of the North. _The Little Birds Gods._ Sandor rubbed his face roughly, _Where are you now Little Bird? Have you seen your way clear of here?_  
  
He had come to her during the battle. When the tide of the fighting had changed, when he knew all was lost. Nothing else mattered in his life at that moment, whatever good was in him beckoned him to her aid, and he could not refuse. He had been delirious, and hours without food had made the wine he'd consumed go to his head. It was all he had been able to manage to make it to her chambers that night, and in the end, it was more her saving him than he her.   
  
When the Hound found her he had been unable to be the knight she wished him to be, whether it be Florian or the Prince of Dragonflies. Sandor had never been such, and he knew that night as the green flames danced around them, and as he pressed his weight against her that he never would be. He had pulled his knife on her when words failed him, and she had still shown grace. He returned her grace with mercy, and left her to her cage. Which as far as he was concerned was a far better fate than any he'd bestow upon her.   
  
The Hound had flown the Red Keep with every intention of leaving Kings Landing in his wake. He could not say how it happened, or how she managed it, but when he made it to the stables the Little Bird was waiting in the shadows. They said not a word, and exchanged not a glance, but when he mounted Stranger he pulled her up behind him and she gave no argument.   
  
It had been near a fortnight since the Battle of the Blackwater. Sandor and the girl had made their way north to Duskendale. It was a stretch he knew and the name Clegane bore no favors there, but many of the people were decedents of the first men, and Sandor had thought mayhap it would be as well a place as any to leave the Little Bird. Far enough from Kings Landing for her to hide anonymously, but close enough that no one would think to search there. It was before the eyes of the Crown, yet under their noses.   
  
He had not thought to be caught on the outskirts of the port city by the them who were called the Queen's Men. The Red Priestess they meant, not Queen Selyse. They said that She had seen flame fleeing flame in her fires, and sent them forth. The Hound had not seen Sansa since. The Sound of King Stannis clearing his throat broke the Hounds' musings. The man even commanded attention with a stick up his ass, the Hound thought bitterly. He bore no love for Stannis, and though he held some respect for him, years in Stannis' presence while the man resided in King's Landing on the small council did not garner the Hound any favor in the man's eyes.   
  
"Clegane." Stannis began, his tone lacking any modulation. "I should kill you where you stand for your treason against your King, and yet, as a Sworn Sword of House Lannister it behooves me to ask what took you from them after so faithfully sending so many of my men to an early grave."  
  
The Hound remained silent, his eyes falling upon the Red Woman to the King's right. Melisandre her name was, or so he'd gathered. The woman looked at him without fear, or loathing. It was she who saw him in her flames. Sandor snorted derisively at that, and a faint smile ghosted across her lips, as if she knew his thoughts. Stannis was less inclined to be amused.   
  
"Your King asks you a question." The red woman reminded Sandor before Stannis had a chance to speak. "You would do well to answer him."  
  
The Hound gazed sternly at her, deciding her role in this, where the power of King Stannis' court truly lay. "Even a dog grows tired of being kicked." He sneered in responce, his gaze never leaving the red woman. Sandor could not find it in himself to take his eyes from her. Anyone who worshiped fire was not someone to be trusted or underestimated. The woman made him uneasy.   
  
"More like the dog found a bone and stole away to burry it. Where is the Stark girl?" Stannis spat back at him.   
  
This took Sandor by surprise, and he feared it wore openly upon his face when he looked back at Stannis. "You don't have her?" Sandor barked a laugh, "So it seems the Little Bird is more adept at flying from danger than anyone thought."   
  
\----------------------------  
  
She had left his side that night to make water, and subsequently lost her way the night the soldiers found them. Sansa had been hesitant to leave his side since the night of the Battle of Blackwater. He had constantly worn a look upon his face like he regretted her presence, and though he cared for her, it could not be said that anything he did he did for her and not himself. The fires he benefited from, the food he ate, he stopped when he was tired, and when Stranger was tired. That these things also coincided with when Sansa found herself cold, hungry or fatigued could not be ignored, but could also not be argued.   
  
She had taken to slipping off to releave herself during the nights when she felt he would be less likely to leave her. Although, Sansa knew he heard her leave, and heard her return he never said anything. They had stolen in, and attacked the Hound though he managed to take two of them down before they overwhelmed him. Sheer numbers were his downfall, Sansa knew. She had seen the Hound fight before, like at the Hand's Tourney when he fought his brother the Mountain. The Hound may have been big, but he was wrought with muscle, and was both light and quick on his feet.   
  
Sansa stumbled through the woods in the direction she thought was Duskendale. That's where the Hound was taking her, she'd be safe there he'd said. Although, it had been some nights since the Hound was taken. It shouldn't have taken her this long. _I should be there by now._   Sansa broke through a final cluster of trees and found herself by a well worn road. Tired, and low on supplies, with a torn dress and an aching heart Sansa sunk to the ground and let fear and exhaustion overwhelm her.   
  
"I wish the Hound were here." She whispered.


	7. Two ruins, and a Maiden Found

"How did your face come to ruin?" The small, sweet voice asked, Stirring the Hound from his sleep. He rolled on the hard pallet to turn his head towards the bars of his cell, his vision taking a moment to clear.   
  
A small girl sat before him, a sweet looking child save for the greyscale which covered half her face turning it into a gruesome thing. She wore her hair pulled back, despite the way her face was contorted, the left portion of her cheek and neck stiff, dead, and flaky, mottled black and grey.  
  
"Gods, child." Sandor murmured, sitting up. "Your more a beauty than I, how is it you live."   
  
The girl shrugged, "The Gods saw fit to grace me with life. How did your face come to ruin? Was it in battle?"   
  
Sandor did not tell anyone what happened to him, except for the Little Bird. The story was told that his bedding had caught fire when he was a child. Sandor leaned towards the girl, beckoning her closer.   
  
"Dragonbreath." He whispered towards her. The girls face contorted in disbelief and she giggled at him, hardly the reaction Sandor had expected.   
  
"Dragonbreath?" She giggled. "There haven't been any Dragons in ages."   
  
Sandor smiled despite himself.  _What sweetness and grace has been bestowed upon a child thus afflicted that she stands here before me with such joy?_ Sandor thought,  _Sansa would like the poor thing..._ His thoughts falling back to the Little Bird killed his small smile. _Would that she is safely away._   
  
\---------------------------------------------------------  
  
Sansa had somehow fallen asleep by the roadside, and awoke to a boot prodding her and the traces of mornings first light ghosting across the treetops.   
  
"Is she alive?" A voice asked, sounding almost concerned. Sansa groaned, a noise most unbecoming a lady of her standing, and raised her head from the ground.   
  
"It would seem so!" A slightly drunk sounding voice responded. "Come now girl, sit up. Let us have a look at you."  
  
Sansa pushed herself up, and brushed the hair from her face. Squinting up at the men who woke her. On of them, was a scraggly looking fellow with sparse fiery hair and a kind face. The other... she couldn't be sure, he looked so very different and there was a patch where one of his eyes should have been, but still. There was something about his red-gold hair that seemed familiar, oh but it had been so long.   
  
"It can't be... " Sansa managed finally, "We were told that you were dead." Sansa whispered, before she remembered her curtosies. She couldn't be sure, but it must be considered poor manners to argue with a man as to whether or not he should still be living.   
  
The man with the red-gold hair threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh. "I feel as though I know this one, Thoros." He said, ignoring Sansa.   
  
Sansa looked at the man who had helped her up, and it occurred to her where she had seen him. Her septa had chided her for laughing at him during the Hand's Tourney.  _"He scaled the walls of pike with his flaming sword during the Greyjoy rebellion, he was first into the breach."_ The words echoed in Sansa's head, and suddenly she recalled the other man too, and a girl she had known all her life who was now missing who had been so taken with him.   
  
"Thoros of Myr, and Ser Beric Dondarrion." Sansa's throat felt tight, tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Ser Beric was one of her father's men. She was safe.   
  



	8. Things of Merit

Ser Beric was not the man he had once been, Sansa could see that now. She watched him converse with the Red Priest from atop her mare, and wondered from whence the change had come. He was no more her father's man now, than her brother's. _Or anyone else, for that matter. He is his own man, and his loyalties hold with this band of bandits he would call kin._ Sansa sniffled, it was unladylike she knew, but she hadn't a handkerchief and her brief foray into lone travel had left her in ill humors with a cold settling in. 

An archer strode past catching Sansa's eye, and something about him reminded her of her little sister Arya. Arya who would be so at home here... Finally, Ser Beric approached her, the Red Priest trailing beside him. 

"How fare you today, Lady Sansa?" He asked. Sansa gazed down at him from her perch. Ser Beric could once have been considered a handsome knight. He had a mop of auburn-tinged curls and a devilish grin, her friend Jeyne had been rather smitten, yet Sansa herself had seen enough of pretty knights. With one eye securely covered, a mess of scars, and his face showing an age far beyond his years, Ser Beric could no longer be considered handsome. Yet, there was something about it that showed his bravery. His lust for life, and for denying the Stranger no matter how many times the God came to claim him. Sansa thought that someone might write a song about Ser Beric now, about him and his band of merry outlaws who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor. Who protected the small folk, or rather claimed to do such. They had managed at least to rescue Sansa from herself thus far, their gallantry had yet to be further proved. 

Sansa supposed she might answer him. "I feel as well as one may, given the circumstances Ser. I thank you for coming to my aid."

"Such a polite young thing." The Red Priest mused. "Tell me child, did you thank them that gave you those bruises just as nicely?"

Sansa shifted and pulled at the hems of her worn dress in an attempt to hide the fading bruises that King Joffrey had gifted her with. She blushed. Ser Beric looked to his friend, and Sansa thought he might chastise him, but instead a bemused look graced Ser Beric's face. 

"You'll have to forgive him." Ser Beric said, turning back to her. "He was raised across the narrow sea by savages, and knows not how one should properly speak to a young lady of standing. Besides, he's a drunk." 

"I should think one such as yourself would not keep company with such, Ser Beric. Alas, I see a great many things have changed. Tell me Ser, what would you make of me?" It was a bold speech, but Sansa feared tarrying in the South, especially without the Hound by her side. She remembered back to the night of the battle, and how she had slipped the city by his aid. They had taken passage on a boat named Prayer, or some such thing, and made their way north through the stormy seas. It was not long after making land that they were set upon, and Sansa had fled loosing her way, and leaving her here with the Brotherhood. Ser Beric smiled again. _He gives his smiles so easily for one who has lost so much, and yet, they do not reach his eyes... He is not truly a happy man. Not anymore._

"We have decided that we might take you to the Vale of Aryn. The Eyrie has yet to be touched by these wars, and if memory serves you have family there my Lady." Ser Beric answered. 

"Besides," The Red Priest interrupted, "The Aryn's are a wealthy sort, and we would seek reward for rescuing you."

"To the Eyrie?" Sansa shuddered, she had heard tales of that sky fortress from her mother. "Why not take me to my brother? Your King? He would see your ransom paid just as well, and surely he is closer still?"

"Closer yes, but far more deeply set in the heart of the battle. It could also be said that he may brand us deserters if he were to see us return, and I'm not so sure that I could come back without a head." Ser Beric chuckled, the Priest joined him. 

Sansa's brows twisted in confusion. _How could you bring back a man without a head?_

\--------------------------

"Tell me child. Why seek company with men in your fathers dungeons?" Sandor asked the girl. She set aside her book and peered up at him. 

"I heard the soldiers say they had captured a Hound. I do like dogs you see, they're ever so friendly." Shireen replied. 

"Dogs also bite child, remember that. Have you not some companion or needlework that needs done? Some Septa to see you to your curtosies and raise you to be some Lord's Lady?" 

Shireen sighed, and closed her book of stories. "I've no companions but the fool, and he frightens me sometimes. As for my curtosies, no Lord would ever care to have me for them. He will only care for me as my father's heir. I am a princess now you know, not just the heir to Dragonstone." 

"Aye, there are a great many Kings, and Princess's these days. Tell me child, has your father gained anymore prisoners of late?" 

"Your asking after the girl aren't you? The one who was supposed to have been with you?"

Sandor shifted, he had become to obvious sitting alone in the dungeon with naught but the silence and this little mite for company. His guilt had worn at him, and not knowing the fate of the Little Bird had kept him up nights. He knew she could not fare well if at all on her own, and she would fare even less well had King Joffrey's men found her. _Seven hells, if any men found her for that matter. The little thing would stand no chance in the wilds._ He rubbed his face, hoping to clear his thoughts. Maybe the Little Bird had kept the dagger he'd given her... Mayhaps she had been found by her Kingly brother's men, and taken back to her kin. Mayhap she had already forgotten the Hound who had sprung her from her cage. _You give yourself to much merit Dog, she sprung herself from that cage. You merely carried her forth into the black._ Yet still, he supposed her curtosies would not let her forget a kindness... 

"Damn me..." The Hound muttered to himself. 

"My Lord?" Shireen ventured. 

"I'm not a lord, little one. Second sons are given no such honors, and I've no lands of my own."

"Good Ser then." She decided. 

"I'm not a knight, I never took the vows." The Hound found himself wishing that maybe he had, maybe then he would have been worthy enough, or gallant enough to spring the Bird from her cage properly. Maybe then he wouldn't have been so drunk as to pass out and let himself be captured and lose her. 

"Then what would you have me call you? Dog is hardly a name fit for a brave soldier."

Sandor quirked his eyebrow at the young girl. "What thing of note would have you paint me as brave?"

Shireen smiled, and clutched her book of tales. "Why, you came forth in the night from the fires of hell and saved the Maiden in the tower. Such deeds are what songs are made of. " Before he could answer, Shireen promptly made her way towards the mouth of the dungeons. "Far be-it for me to say, good Ser, but wouldn't it be romantic if the brave warrior were to evade his capture and once again seek out and save his Lady love? Mayhap he befriends a sprite to help him on his way..." 

Sandor was dumb struck at her words, and found his own escaped him. Shireen's eyes glimmered at her thoughts and skipped away from him and into the light outside the dungeons. A song and a smile on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is finally picking up!!! Sorry I have no posting schedule what-so-ever for this. This new chapter is a result of a nightmare that I had where angry readers hunted me down and demanded a new chapter. Whatever the cause, I think this is my favorite chapter so far, because I feel like the story is finally progressing, so hopefully you all like it!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	9. The Lady meets a young boy, of sorts, and a bull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Sandor this time, but he has a little adventure of his own coming up so never fear!!
> 
> Also as a side note... Never has it been so apparent to me as I discovered when i did a read-through of this chapter after I wrote it, that I apparently have a love affair with the comma. I apologize. I'll try to keep a better handle on my infatuation in the future. ;-)

If you would have told her in years past that they would be torn apart only to be reunited by a band of outlaws deep in the southron wild Sansa would have laughed. She was not laughing now, only crying, and holding her sister tightly. She didn't care that Arya was more filthy than her, or that the girl had long since lost her long brown hair. She didn't mind the way Arya had slapped at her at first, the way she had fought Sansa after seeing her. The way Arya had refused to be happy at seeing her, and almost been insulted that after so many had been taken away from her, and after their Father had been put to the sword that Sansa was the one who she was finally reunited with. 

They hadn't been close as sisters. Arya had always been more wildling then Lady, and Sansa had always been so heartbroken that the Gods hadn't seen fit to give her a kind gentle Lady for a sister. A girl with whom she could sit with and who would enjoy all the things that Ladies should enjoy. That hardly seemed to matter now. 

\------

They had made camp one afternoon, and Sansa had been sitting quietly by the fire. Not really thinking on anything, except maybe... How she wished she mightn't have given the Hound back his handkerchief as she was in sore need of one, but that was a silly thing to think on. Mainly, she felt numb. The archer, Anguy had tried to speak with her. To reassure her that eventually they would make it to the Eyrie and her Aunt, but that duty had kept them here. Sansa could tell him what she thought of their honor and duty, but she remembered her curtosies and instead Sansa had whispered to him quietly that A soldier wasn't much company for a Lady, and had asked him to please leave her be. Anguy had puffed up and was beginning to explain to her how he felt about that sentiment when some commotion disturbed the camp. 

The group of outlaws, including Ser Beric and his Red Priest who had gone ranging was returning with a deer slung between them and a group of three prisoners. At least, Sansa had assumed they were such. There was a fat boy, a tall young man with dark features whom Sansa thought bore a strange resemblance to the late King Robert and his brother Lord Renly, and a very scruffy dirty young boy. 

At least, Sansa had thought it was a dirty young boy. Until the boy said her name, and subsequently attacked her, screaming how everything was her fault. It had taken the tall young man and Anguy both to haul Arya off of her. 

\------

That was some hours past, and as the sun sank in the sky, the two had made amends. Sharing something of their time apart. Although, Sansa suspected her sister had glazed over a good many details, just as she herself hadn't mentioned that the brave soldier who had rescued her and been captured was the Hound. Not that Sansa wasn't grateful to him, but she didn't think that Arya would understand, and as they held each other and fell asleep that night her fears were confirmed. 

Sansa was thinking on what may have happened to Sandor, who was a subject of so many of her thoughts even now when, after so much time she finally held a family member close. At first, she couldn't be sure she heard it the whisper was so faint. Then slowly, she was able to discern the words, and the names sent a shiver down her spine. 

"Ser Amory, Ser Gregor, The Tickler, Polliver, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei, Dunsen, The Hound."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another side note on Arya, I always feel that people who are bigger fans of one character write others heavily biased. That seems to happen a lot with Sansa and Arya when they are written together... One of them will get dumb-ed down or watered down to the most two-dimensional stereotype of their character. I'm going to try really hard not to do that, but I feel like this may have been how Arya would have initially reacted.


	10. This is not the life for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap between updates! Here I was being bummed that all the fics I'm reading haven't been updated as often as I'd like and I've not been holding up my end... Ooops! 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who's reading!

Sansa was the last member of her family Arya had ever thought to see again. Gendry had told her that she should be happy to be reunited with Sansa and on her way to the Eyrie to be reunited with her aunt, but Arya wasn't so sure. She thought back to Jaqen and how he had asked her to come to Braavos with him, telling her she too could become faceless as he was. She had denied him then, thinking to stay with her friends and find her family... but now... 

She had thought that Gendry would stay by her side. That he would come with her and Sansa to the Eyrie, however over dinner some nights past when she'd brought it up, Gendry had told her that they were to part ways. _"You'll go back there with your family, and you'll be a proper lady. You'll have no time for the likes of me."_ He was so stupid sometimes, and she'd told him as much. _"I will" she'd said. "You're my family now too."_ He'd shaken his head at her then. _"You wouldn't be my family. You'd be my Lady."_

Jon was gone at the wall, and his vows would keep him there, and despite wanting to find her mother and Robb as well something inside told Arya she wasn't ready to go home. Not yet. She would leave them before they left her this time. 

\----------------------

Sansa had spent the entire morning searching their camp for any sign of Arya, but there was no trace of her. The girl had slipped away like a phantom in the night, and besides a saddened look on the face of the newly knighted Ser Gendry, no one else seemed to care. Finally, she noted that a large party had broken off, leaving her alone with a small contingent and she sighed in relief as Ser Beric made his way to her. 

"You're sending a party out to find her? Thank the Gods." 

Ser Beric let the ghost of a smile break across his face. "Alas, no. I'm sorry sweetling, but we cannot sacrifice our numbers for one small girl."

"But you must! She is your Lady--" 

"She is a Lady yes, in the broadest sense, but we have spoke of this. My loyalties lay with the Brotherhood."

Sansa could feel her heart tighten in her chest, and her eyes began to sting. Things had just begun to go well, if that is what could be said of her situation. She had escaped King's Landing with the aid of Sandor, and had been reunited with her sister after being ignorant to her circumstances for so long. She was on her way to her aunt, and from there would send word to her Brother the King, and her mother and they would all go North together. 

_Sandor... He would laugh to hear me._ Sansa thought bitterly. _Life is no song he'd say, you'd do well to remember that._ She should have known better. Arya was a wild thing yet, and not to be tamed. Sandor was still missing, and as much as she'd hoped that he would come to her aid... Sandor wouldn't have been afraid to take her through were the fighting was. He would have delivered her to her Brother and not batted an eye. 

"Do you hear me, child?" Ser Beric interrupted her thoughts. 

She glanced up at him, gentle tears seeping from her eyes and rolling down her face. "I hear you Ser. Am I still to the Eyrie?"

He nodded solemnly. "A few of my men have volunteered to see you through the mountains and protect you from the hill tribes. You'll be in the safety of your aunts arms by fortnights end."

Sansa sniffled, pulling at the ratty edge of her sleeve to dab at her eyes. 

"Then I thank you, Ser. For all you have done."

Ser Beric nodded, and took his leave. Something caused him to pause for a moment, and he turned slightly back to her. 

"Let none tell you that your father was not a good man, my Lady. I wish you well, truly I do." He lowered himself into a gentle bow, and took his leave. 

Sansa felt hollow. _He may play at being brave all he likes. The Hound would not abandon me so easily._


	11. Reflections in the darkness.

She dreamt that night, of Winterfell. 

\--------------

Sansa wondered aimlessly through the Godswood. Her hands ghosting along what grasses and plants had grown high in her absence. The tall dark trees making a shadowy canopy of the crisp winter day, but the cold hadn't fallen within the wood, not yet. Not truly. The ground was covered only by a thick moss, and the warmth from the hot-springs all through winterfell filled the air with an almost muggy haze. 

She was wandering somewhere specific she knew, following a voice calling her name, although she could not put a name to the voice. She felt the calling more than heard it, if she thought about it truly, but the source of the call did not lessen its merit. As Sansa rounded a path she finally recognized where in the wood she was. She had come upon the clearing where her father used to sit on a stone beneath the heart tree, a dark glassy pool before him, and clean Ice. She saw him there now, polishing his great-sword, and Sansa's voice caught in her throat. 

"Father..." She stumbled, her knees becoming weak beneath her. He raised his head to smile at her, as he had done so many times. Only it was not her father who sat before her, but Sandor Clegane. Moreover, it was not Ice that he polished, but a different sword. One that called to mind a story that old Nan had told Sansa once what felt like a lifetime ago. 

"Little Bird." He whispered, his eyes finding her. 

She had meant to go to him, meant to answer him. To ask him why he had not come for her yet, but the dream began to fall away from her. 

\---

Sansa woke shaking, a sheen of sweat covering her brow despite the chill of the night. It was still dark, and the few coals from their fire gave off little light to see by. The Brotherhood who had been chosen to escort her lay around the fire. The Archer standing as a sentry in the night with his back to her. _and what will become of me now?_ Sansa tried to force the traces of her dream from her mind, thinking instead of her wolf Lady. Lady could smell out a lie, she would know who to trust. But she was dead, on account of Arya. 

Sansa rubbed at her nose. She didn't want to think of Arya, not when she had finally got her sister back, only to have her leave so suddenly. She wondered if Arya could have made it safe back to Winterfell yet. Back to the Bran and Rickon, and the Godswood... _No, it's too far away._ Sansa thought bitterly, forcing the image of home from her mind, and trying desperately to think of anything else. 

She wished for sleep to come to her, but it refused. Instead, another haunted Sansa's thoughts, someone who used to frighten her. Someone who still did. Her dream came back to her slowly, fragments at first, but then there he was in her minds eye. Sitting by the pool in the Godswood next to the Heart tree. Sansa decided it must have just as a tangent to her thoughts of Winterfell... _My mind has made a mess of everything..._ She rolled onto her back, and stared up at the stars. 

\----------------

It had been half a fortnight since she'd left them, and Arya was well away before she realized how stupid she had been. Hunger gnawed at her belly, and she at last had found a gentle brook, where she had filled her stomach with cool water. Hoping that it would ease the ache. She had some idea of which way she'd come from, although, not that she would admit to having gotten turned around once or twice. It wasn't that that fatigued her most though, it was the voice in the back of her head that told her she was being stupid.

 _They're all gone now_ She thought bitterly, staring down into the stillness of the brook before her. They didn't leave me, I left them. I keep leaving them. It was silly really. She had left Kings Landing the day her father was beheaded with Yoren, headed to the wall to find Jon. _Not just him, Winterfell is North. Bran, Rickon..._ Arya splashed her hand in the water and watched as the dirt from her skin made it murky. 

She had survived Harrenhall, survived Weese and the Tickler, had survived the King's Guard when they came looking for her. No, it hadn't been her they were looking for... It was Gendry. Arya wondered what they could have wanted with him. Sansa would know... But she had left Sansa with the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood would take Sansa to their aunt in the Eyrie, she would be safe there, and could act like a lady. It was a wonder Sansa had held up so well out here, Arya thought bemusedly. She remembered once when she had eaten a bug just to hear Sansa shriek and wondered if such a thing would still bother her. Sansa was still clean though, surprisingly. _I should go back to her, It would be the right thing to do. She is probably scared... And She is still a wolf._ Their Aunt Lysa wasn't a wolf, It would never do to leave Sansa with her, locked away up in the Eyrie. 

Arya stared at her dirty reflection in the water again, _I'd thought that if Sansa saw me again and like this she'd pretend she didn't know me. That I would embarrass her... But she didn't care. She hugged me close and didn't care that it got her pretty silken dress dirty._ Septa Mordane wouldn't like it either, she thought. Nor my Lady mother. Arya splashed the water over her face and began to scrub in an attempt to get some of the filth off. 

"It'll never do." She murmured, once again seeing her face in the water. "I'll never be like her." 

Arya heard a twig snap behind her. "Like who, little wolf?" A course voice rasped at her. 

The sound sent a shiver up her spine and Arya lurched around to see who it belonged to, loosing her footing in the process and falling back into the shallow brook. The icy water sent shock up her spine and Arya cried out, water filling her mouth and nose. A large, hand reached behind and caught her by the scruff of her collar bringing her out of the water and up startlingly high. To face level. Arya's feet dangled helplessly off the ground as she grabbed the armored arm that held her aloft. 

"Hound." She sputtered, coughing up bouts of water. A sly grin broke across his face, making a twisted mess of the scarred flesh. 

"Not the one I was wanting, but you'll do." He rasped, and Arya felt her blood go cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this Arya section is my favorite section yet. I was determined to work Arya and Sandor's epic road-trip into this somehow, and I have succeeded. *evil laugh*


	12. Uneasy alliances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worlds longest hiatus officially over!!! At least I hope... November is the month for writing and I'm determined to finish this. :-)

"What pleasant twist of fate has brought you here child?" His voice sent a shiver up her spine, and his smile did not reach his eyes. 

Sansa remembered her courtesies though, even if the Brotherhood had not. They had served her up for a hot meal and a heavy purse, abandoning her at the gates of the Eyrie to the nearest Lord who would see them paid. That Lord in turn, had delivered her to the castle itself, and into the embrace of Petyr Baelish. 

"Your Aunt will be so pleased to see you safe." He continued, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and guiding her from the entry. 

"Lord Baelish..." Sansa could not say that she knew why he was here. _He was fostered with my Lady mother and her sister. Mayhap he has remained close with my aunt._

"We are married, little one." He said, as if in answer to her thoughts. They stopped before a door. "My new lands and title gave me leave to seek my hearts desire... Gods but you look like your mother."

"I would give anything to see her my Lord. She's not far from here... If you would but--"

"Shhhh little one, there is time enough for that later. I'll have the maids bring you a bath, and then you can tell us all about where you have been, and we will see you well."

He left her there, in the cold stony chamber, and Sansa found her hand tightening, wishing for something to hold onto. Sansa turned back to the large oaken door, and bolted it tightly. 

\------------------------------------------------

Sandor stretched his long limbs gratefully, and glanced up at the stars shining brightly above him. _Mayhap I shouldn't be so hard on young maidan's and their dreams he thought. _Although he felt beholden to the young thing who had somehow managed to spring him from Stannis' dungeon, he didn't believe he was the man that she or the little bird hoped he could be. The wolf bitch certainly didn't think so.__

__After she'd taken the spill in the creek and he'd built her a fire and fed her, he'd still had to tie her hands to keep her from trying to kill him in his sleep. It had been a few days until he'd felt safe enough to untie her, but she was still wary of him. _Better that way. One trusts too little, the other too much. Or at least she used too._ He had almost given up hope that she was still alive when the wolf bitch had a slip of the tongue. She had been growing more and more anxious as the days past, and he knew she was itching to go somewhere. Like their wandering was taking her from something she wanted. _ _

__\---------_ _

__Arya had made up her mind to go back to Sansa when she'd been caught by the Hound. She had been determined to kill him, for what he'd done to Micah, but there was something off about him. He did not seem to any longer be the man she knew him to be, and the change was a mystery to her. Her rage was met with nothing but understanding from him, and though she could tell he didn't like her, and didn't help her at his own behest, she could tell that not many others would have taken her up with them at no benefit to themselves. Especially after he told her. _We escaped Kings Landing together. _His story was too like what Sansa had told her. There were too many similarities for it to not be true.___ _

____Eventually, Arya gave in, and told him. She'd seen a change in him then, as though a weight had been lifted from him. They'd changed directions that night, and had pushed their pace. _If he takes me to Sansa, if he gets us back to mother and Robb... I might forgive him then. He'd be like the valiant knight in one of Sansa's stupid songs._ __ _ _


	13. The knight who might have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for not updating this in forever... I just stumbled on it in my folder and had an urge to write another chapter. We'll see what happens.

She had cried herself to sleep in the cold of the Eyrie the night after her aunt had dyed her tresses. It was a little thing, but it seemed as if so much of her was lost already that it was just one more thing to fall by the wayside. She had cried until she began to cough, and choke, and her nose became red. It wasn't until the door to her small chamber pushed open that Sansa realized that in her misery she had neglected to bolt it shut. _what would Sandor think of me _she thought, pulling the nearest blanket up to her chin, as if it could be a shield of sorts from whatever strangeness had sought her out so late. _Sandor... I wish he were--___

____"Are you in there, Bastard?" A confidant throaty voice ventured to the darkness._ _ _ _

____Sansa let out her breath, and watched as the silhouette of Miranda Royce slipped into the room. Sansa had been introduced to Miranda, and the rest of her Aunt and Petyr's household that night as Petyr's bastard daughter Alayne. Her hair had been freshly dyed that morning, and her torn and worn dress replaced with a simple woolen dress more befitting her new station._ _ _ _

____Sansa crawled to the edge of the bed as Miranda planted herself upon it. "How do you find the Eyrie, Bastard?" Miranda continued, producing a flask of wine and a pair of glasses as if from nowhere._ _ _ _

____"It's very--"_ _ _ _

____"Much nicer than anything you'd be used to, I'd think? They say he left you in a convent? I must admit that surprises me more than littlefinger having a bastard." She forced the glasses into Sansa's hands and began to pour, before continuing. "To think, a man who runs a house of ill repute giving his offspring an upbringing worthy of the faith?"_ _ _ _

____"I don't believe I--"_ _ _ _

____"Tell me bastard, have you had many men? Stifled away in a convent, I know I'd find any chance I could to slip away. I've been dying for some descent conversation... All the ladies here guard their virtue like they guard their gemstones." She downed her glass, and motioned for Sansa to pour another. Sansa obliged the boisterous girl, and wondered that Miranda hadn't mentioned the state she was sure her face was in after having shed so many tears._ _ _ _

____"Do you live here in the Eyrie?" Sansa ventured._ _ _ _

____"This frigid place? Gods no. I am merely here for the little Lord."_ _ _ _

____"Robyn?"_ _ _ _

____"Aye." Miranda replied, draining yet another glass. She glared pointedly at Sansa's own glass which had remained untouched, and Sansa hurried to take a drink. The liquid was a sour wine, and it made Sansa's mouth pucker. She coughed. "Didn't get into the Septa's secret store? You are a good girl then... No matter. We'll cure you of that soon enough. Any lover back at the fingers, Bastard?"_ _ _ _

____"Alayne."_ _ _ _

____"Come again?"_ _ _ _

____"My name, it's Alayne." Sansa tipped her cup again to take another sip. If she was to pretend to be a bastard, she may as well act the part. _A bastard would like to have a glass or two of sour red in secret._ Sansa thought, trying her best not to cough again. _ _ _ _

____"So you've said. I think we shall be quite close Alayne. You can help me escort the little lord to the Gates of the Moon, and we shall have a grand time." Miranda smiled as widley as her little mouth would allow, and Sansa felt a kinship with her almost immediately. _It would be so nice to have a friend.__ _ _ _

____\-------------------------_ _ _ _

____"How far is it to the Eyrie?" Arya asked, picking at the swaying grass. The Hound had made them keep a rapid pace since he had found her, and though she was sure they were headed in the right direction, she had no idea where they actually were._ _ _ _

____"Do I look like I'm holding a bloody map?" He asked her drawing up short, and screwing up his face. Despite the fact that both Sansa and the Hound had told her that they had fled king's Landing together, Arya still had a hard time believing that Sansa would choose to be in the company of someone as ugly as the Hound. Then again, when Arya had found Sansa, she had taken up with the Brotherhood without banners. Arya would never had thought that Sansa would be seen with the likes of them either._ _ _ _

____Arya scowled, she never should have left Sansa. Now she was stuck with the Hound for a companion, with no clue as to how to get Sansa back. She had no clue why the Hound was even willing to risk the journey. _The Brotherhood hadn't even wanted to risk the journey to the Eyrie..._ she thought. Then it struck her. _He fancies her._ It was ridiculous, in truth. Someone like the Hound liking her sister. They weren't even of the same class, house Stark was one of the five major houses of Westeros. They were decedents of the first men. _He could never be her family, even if she did return his feelings. Which she wouldn't because Sansa likes pretty knights, which the Hound is neither._ Arya decided that she must have been deprived of good food for too long and it was making her delirious. She was inventing stories in her head, no good could come from that. _ _ _ _

____"Is it true that the hill tribes eat people?" Arya asked, in an attempt to distract herself. The Hound stopped, and glared at her again, he was always glaring at her. Even if his glare didn't quite hold the rage it had before._ _ _ _

____"Are you trying to convince me not to take you to your sister, little wolf?" He rasped, staring down at her._ _ _ _

____"I'm not little."_ _ _ _

____"You are, and you'd best remember it. No good ever came from thinking yourself stronger or bigger than you are, you use what you have to your advantage."_ _ _ _

____"Like you use your ugly face to yours?" Arya asked, before she could stop herself. If it was possible for the Hound's glare to get worse, it did. "You like to scare people. It stops them from getting too close." The Hound scoffed and began to walk again, putting distance between them until Arya ran to catch up. "That's why you like Sansa isn't it? She didn't let you scare her?"_ _ _ _

____"What does your sister have to do with cannibals?"_ _ _ _

____"Don't change the subject, you'd be like a knight if you rescued her. Sansa would love that."_ _ _ _

____"Would you shut up?" Sandor snapped. "Just shut up about it, wolf bitch. We'll have you to your aunt and sister soon enough, and I will take what reward is offered and be off."_ _ _ _

____"Only you won't, will you?" Sandor glared at her again, and didn't speak to her the rest of the day._ _ _ _


	14. A girl born of necessity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Arya and Sandor this chapter, they're busy being lost in the Vale somewhere... ;)

Alayne thought the garden was comely in it's own respects, although not as beautiful as it may have been had the Wierwood trees actually managed to take root. She had awoken before dawn that day, following yet another of Randa's late night visits. The Lady had decided that _Alayne_ was more fun as company than any of the other ladies present, and especially more so than that of the Lady Lysa, whom Randa had assured Alayne was completely daft. 

Although hesitant to have drank that first night, Alayne soon found herself welcoming the respite the drink provided. It also served to help her sleep deeply, an act in itself which was more than worth the ache the following mornings as it helped her to sleep through Lysa's screams of pleasure. That was another thing that Randa found great humor in. Apparently, the lady had not been so vocal with her last husband, and it had not gone un-noted in the Eyrie. 

Alayne hadn't initially meant to rise so early, especially considering the state of her head, but when she had opened the windows of her small chamber it had been snowing. The snow reminded Alayne of another girl, a girl named Sansa, who had a different father and who had a sister and brothers. _and who was rescued once by a fierce soldier, who was honest and brave and true..._ but that wasn't Alayne, that was another girl. 

It seemed such a shame to waste the snow, especially when it would probably melt again soon, so Alayne decided she might as well make snowballs. But then, when she had gathered a small arsenal, she realized there was no one to throw them at and in turn began to form them into a castle. A castle that may have once been home to another girl. 

"A fine holdfast." Came a voice from the shadows, as Lord Baelish appeared and made his way towards her in the snow. "You look as if you were a snow maiden, sitting there. Are you not cold?" 

"No, my Lord." Alayne replied. She wished he would leave her, but instead he sat beside her, and appraised her work. 

"You are a talented girl. Tell me, how does it feel to raise up ones own creation out of nothingness?"

"I don't know my Lord." 

"Please, call me Petyr." He said, reaching out to brush away the hair that had fallen in Alayne's eyes. "You are far prettier than your mother ever was."

 _Alayne doesn't have a beautiful mother._ Sansa thought, her breath catching as Lord Baelish leaned towards her. _She is a bastard, and must be brave._ His lips felt thin as they touched her own, and he tasted of mint. Sansa pushed him away, finding a strength she didn't know she had. Lord Baelish fell back into the snow, a smile on his lips. 

"That was unchivalrously done, my Lady."

"You had no right." Sansa answered, rising to her feet. She turned away from him, and made her way back into the castle.


	15. A twist of the knife, and a twist of fate, both which cause a fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! What?? That is totally unprecedented for me. I wasn't planning to but turns out I had written the last chapter and forgotten to post it. Oops.  
> Also, I borrowed heavily from ASOS for this chapter. I'm sorry. lol I just couldn't come up with a better way for it to happen so I pilfered dialogue etc from GRRM. #DontSueMe

_"The Lord he came a-riding in upon a rainy day. Hey-nonny..."_ The Singer strummed at his harp, and danced about the chamber. Sansa felt her aunts finger's digging into her arm like claws. 

"You have my leave to go!" Shouted Lysa, thrusting her forward. Sansa watched as the snow from about the moon door broke free and fell into the abyss. Lady Lysa outweighed her greatly, and it was all she could do to cling to the door. 

"Not like this!" Sansa begged, while the singer continued behind them. 

_"The Lady sat sewing, upon a rainy day... hey-nonny..."_ He strummed, and did not seem to care that Sansa was about to be thrown to her death. 

"What is the meaning of this? Get back from there. Lysa, what are you doing?" Lord Baelish had come from the Lord's entrance and was approaching them. There were guards banging on the door to the room, and Marillion had stopped singing. 

Sansa felt Lysa's grip loosen as the woman saw Lord Baelish, and took the opportunity to rush back from the moon door. 

"She kissed you, I saw! She has no gratitude, no decency... You're not hers to kiss!"

"We were just building a castle." Sansa begged, "Tell her!"

"Cat might have kissed you, but I gave you everything. I would have given you a son but they took him from me." Lady Lysa raved, she snatched Sansa again by the hair, and held her tight. Lord Baelish crept closer. Sansa could feel the wind rushing through the door, it blew at her skirts and pelted her with snow. "Cat never loved you, not like I do. Don't you love me Petyr?" 

"Lysa," he purred, "I've only ever loved one woman. Let her go."

Lysa dropped Sansa and clutched her hands to her chest. "Oh Petyr truly? Only one?"

Sansa scrambled away and hugged a pillar, Her heart felt as though it would burst from her chest and she was missing a shoe. Lord Baelish approached Lysa, and hugged her tightly in his arms. 

"Only Cat." He said, and gave Lysa a sharp shove. Sansa's aunt fell out the moon door, but she didn't scream. Sansa did not know what to think. Lord Baelish turned to her. 

"If you are quite all right Alayne, please go and let my guards in. The singer has killed my Lady Wife." 

\-------

"Tell me about her." Arya said, plopping down by the fire. She had a rather fat rabbit in her hands and was making a mess of skinning it. The hound took it from her and set to the task. He hadn't really spoken to her since she had accused him of liking her sister. It had been only too obvious, once she had stopped to look. Arya considered the man. She wanted him dead still, but the reason didn't seem as legitimate as it once had. She barely remembered the butchers boy. 

If what Sansa had said was true, the Hound had been kind to her when no one else had. He had never beaten her, and had protected her from the riots. Arya wondered at what her sister was like now. 

"Do I look like a wet nurse to you?" He said, as he shoved the rabbit onto a spit and stuck it over the fire. "Am I to tell you stories so that you might fall asleep with pleasant dreams?" 

"Don't be daft. The world is terrible, and there are no pleasant dreams. You know that as well as I."

The hound scoffed, and laid back against a log. Arya wondered if Sansa fancied him too. He was nothing like her pretty knights, but he was strong, and he was looking after her without any reason to. She could say less of other men. 

"She was very kind." The Hound said at last. He didn't look at Arya when he said it, and seemed almost lost in gazing at the fire. "and very pretty." 

Arya wanted to ask him to tell her something she didn't know, but decided that the Hound probably wasn't the type to share his thoughts with others. She wondered what it might mean that he had even said anything at all. 

"You said I wasn't the one you were wanting, and now you're braving the hill tribes." Arya ventured quietly, as she poked at the rabbit. "It's not me you're doing it for." She glanced at him, but he wouldn't even so much as indicate that he'd heard her. Arya supposed it was just as well. The Hound had a short temper, and although he might be as stupid as he was ugly, he was brave. _Even Sansa could see that._

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Fic, so be nice. It might be slow coming, but i'll do my best to actually follow my outline. <3


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